


‘...you’re naked.’

by Crowgirl



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Morning After, New Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2021-02-18 11:35:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21610252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crowgirl/pseuds/Crowgirl
Summary: ‘I don’t know if you remember what we did last night, but getting naked is something of a prerequisite.’
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 24
Kudos: 355
Collections: Fluffy Omens





	‘...you’re naked.’

‘Oh!’

The padding sound of Crowley’s feet on the carpet, almost too quiet to be heard anyway, stops. ‘Angel, what are you doing?’

‘I -- you’re naked,’ Aziraphale says helplessly, his eyes tight shut enough to make colors bloom against the backs of his eyelids.

There’s a pause. ‘...Yes,’ Crowley agrees finally and Aziraphale can hear the faint _shuff_ of the towel as he scrubs it over his hair. ‘I don’t know if you remember what we did last night, but getting naked is something of a prerequisite. You were naked, too, if you recall.’

Aziraphale can feel his cheeks heating and makes himself open his eyes. Crowley is standing just about halfway between the foot of the bed and the bathroom door, a damp towel slung over one shoulder, still entirely, beautifully, _gorgeously_ naked. Aziraphale swallows hard and fixes his gaze on Crowley’s collarbone. ‘Well, yes, but that was rather the _point_ then.’

‘Usually the point of bathing is getting naked, too,’ Crowley points out reasonably. ‘Otherwise it’s just doing complicated laundry.’ 

Aziraphale scoffs before he can help it. ‘You and I both know you’ve never troubled yourself much with laundry, complicated or otherwise.’

Crowley shrugs and the towel slips off his shoulder, landing in a heap on the floor by his feet; Aziraphale follows the movement automatically and shuts his eyes again. It seems somehow dangerous to look at Crowley in the full light of day. 

Crowley’s silent for a long minute. ‘I didn’t know you were this squeamish about skin.’

‘I’m not!’ Aziraphale snaps, putting out one hand to steady himself against the bed. 

‘Then why are you standing there with your eyes shut, impersonating a stop light?’ 

‘I -- just --’ Aziraphale swallows and opens his eyes again. Crowley’s standing perhaps a step or two closer than he had been, golden eyes slightly narrowed, expression carefully noncommittal. ‘You’re naked,’ Aziraphale says again, a little weakly.

‘We covered that.’ Crowley glances down at himself. Aziraphale can see him biting the inside of his cheek, then one hand goes up to brush the scattering of scales over his collarbone and the skin fades into smoothness. 

‘Oh, _no!_ No, _no, _no, no, it isn’t _that --’_ Aziraphale catches Crowley’s hand and squeezes it tight. ‘You know I’ve never cared about _that.’___

____

____

‘Not caring about it and looking at it are two different ideas,’ Crowley points out.

‘You’ve never taken a form I didn’t think was beautiful,’ Aziraphale says honestly, looking Crowley straight in the eye.

Crowley swallows and the shadow of scales reappears; there’s more now, a distinct trail coming down each rise of collarbone and meeting in the middle to make a path down the center of his chest. ‘All right. Then what’s the problem?’

‘You...you’re...there’s so _much_ of you. I -- I just never thought about being able to _look_ at you,’ Aziraphale tries again, reaching out to smooth his palm over the shining skin of Crowley’s sternum. It’s a fascinating sensation: the scales are cool, almost slick, but the skin under his fingers is warm and yields easily when he presses a fingertip between Crowley’s ribs.

‘Well, we’ve established you thought about plenty of other things,’ Crowley agrees and Aziraphale would blush brighter but he’s fairly sure that’s not possible; he can remember some of the things he said the night before. ‘I suppose you probably didn’t have time to get to everything.’

Aziraphale clears his throat. ‘Yes. Well.’ 

Crowley nods slowly, then says, ‘Y’know, angel, I hate to point out a double standard but -- you’re naked, too.’

Aziraphale blinks and glances down at himself. He had, quite honestly, forgotten. His own nudity seems inconsequential besides Crowley’s. There’s so _much_ of Crowley: he fills space, claims attention, leaves no room for anything else -- although Aziraphale is aware this may be a problem unique to himself. ‘Oh. Yes.’ 

‘Oh. Yes.’ Crowley mimics him with raised eyebrows. ‘You hadn’t noticed?’

‘Well, I can’t see myself,’ Aziraphale points out as Crowley steps in closer so their chests almost brush whenever either takes a breath. 

‘Mmm...’ Crowley rakes a frankly salacious gaze from Aziraphale’s shoulders to his toes, then back up, meeting his eyes and licking his own lips theatrically. ‘Pity, that.’

Aziraphale snorts. ‘I’d far rather look at you.’ Aziraphale settles his hands on Crowley’s hips. Crowley’s breath hitches for a second, then resettles into a slightly faster rhythm. 

‘Really? That wasn’t the impression I got. You seemed quite horrified.’ 

‘I did not! I was just -- surprised.’

‘By me coming out of the bathroom with no clothes on. Like anyone else who’d been having a shower in his own bathroom in his own flat.’ 

Aziraphale rolls his eyes. ‘Well, if all you want to do is make fun of me--’

‘Oh, no, not _all,’_ Crowley hums, stroking one long cool finger down the center of Aziraphale’s chest. ‘Not by any means _all.’_ He stops with his fingertip just above Aziraphale’s navel, a cosmetic feature he had added during the heyday of public bathhouses and never bothered removing. ‘But I am curious. You know me.’ 

‘Yes, I do,’ Aziraphale says thoughtfully, lifting and dropping his fingers each in turn on the smooth skin of Crowley’s lower back; Crowley shivers but doesn’t move away. ‘I suppose...I never really...I didn’t anticipate knowing you like this.’

‘In the Biblical sense?’ Crowley’s grinning at him now. 

‘In the sense of getting -- getting just to _look_ at you. To take my time, so to speak.’

‘So...you thought we’d do this -- you _hoped_ \--’ Crowley pauses with raised eyebrow until Aziraphale nods. ‘-- you hoped we’d do this -- but --’

‘I didn’t picture it like this.’

‘Not like this.’ Crowley leans back slightly, narrowing his eyes at Aziraphale. ‘What did you picture? A quick grope in an alley? The Bentley? Or the back of the bookshop? Seems a little tasteless for you, angel.’ 

‘Oh, for pity’s sake!’ Aziraphale exclaims and holds Crowley still while he steps up against him so they’re skin to skin from knee to shoulder. ‘I imagined us together in more or less any configuration you could think of because six thousand years comes to seem like a very long time and it turns out that my imagination was entirely inadequate at picturing how bloody gorgeous you are, you stupid snake.’ 

There’s a moment of silence and Crowley blinks at him slowly. ‘So -- was that supposed to be a compliment or--’

Aziraphale makes an inarticulate noise that combines annoyance with affection, spins Crowley around to topple him onto the bed, and follows, pinning a laughing Crowley down with arms and legs and starting, very slowly, to kiss his way along every long-beloved, newly-seen inch of Crowley's skin.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Drunk Storytime - Two Stories by ravendiana and Crowgirl](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23985820) by [Quefish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quefish/pseuds/Quefish)




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